Straightening herself up from the heat of the fire she had a terrible temptation then to go to him. It overwhelmed her in a flood; her knees and hands trembled. She wanted just to touch his arm, to put her hand on his shoulder. But she knew that she must not.
"Sit down for a bit," she said very quietly, "and let's have our meal. There's nothing terrible in that, Martin. I've not put poison in your food or anything and the sausages do smell nice."
To her surprise he sat down, suddenly collapsing as though he were too tired to stand any longer. He said nothing more. She finished the sausages, put them on the table, then took a saucepan (also Emily's gift), filled it with water and put in the eggs.
"Come on," she said gently, "or the sausages will get cold."
He went then to the table, cut off some bread and began to eat ravenously. Her heart felt a dim distant triumph when she saw that he was so hungry, but it was too early to feel triumph yet.
She came to the table and began to eat, although she felt no hunger.
"You're married, aren't you?" he asked suddenly.
"Yes," she answered.
"Where's your husband?"
"A place called Skeaton."